


let the starlight keep shining on us

by Knightblazer



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Established Relationship, Fluff, Introspection, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Old Age, Role Reversal, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 14:57:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16935384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightblazer/pseuds/Knightblazer
Summary: But stars never shine forever. They’re always fated to burn away, blazing their trail and making their mark on an uncaring universe, however momentary it may be.(Reverse AU; Hank muses on the inevitability of death and Connor.)





	let the starlight keep shining on us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nekolalia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekolalia/gifts).



> Written for [this prompt](https://dbh-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/717.html?thread=69325#cmt69325) over on the DBH kink meme, asking for reverse AU Hankcon with old man Connor. This whole thing just... kinda happened I guess haha. Call it a train of thought or something if you will.
> 
> Either way, hope you all enjoy the fic!
> 
> (Special thanks to bib and bee for reassuring me that this fic is probably okay to put up after I worried about how weird it is.)

“Oh, my—what a doting son you have with you, sir!”

That remark crops up a lot more now, these days. Hank finds himself hating it a bit more each time it happens. It’s a painful reminder of what he has, and what he will eventually lose.

Connor, though, has no such qualms.

“Thanks,” he returns, turning his head around to look at the woman who had said it and flashes his best grin at her, all teeth and smiles. “But I usually keep the daddy roleplay in bed. Not that we do that much these days, eh Hank?”

Hank struggles to keep his expression neutral. “It depends on the time of day, I suppose,” he replies, and this time he’s definitely unable to hide the way he relishes how the woman’s eyes go comically wide at their exchange. “Mostly if you can maintain an erection.”

There’s spluttering, now. Connor barks out a laugh and turns back, carelessly waving a goodbye to the embarrassed lady as Hank starts to move them again. He makes sure to keep his grip tight on the handles of Connor’s wheelchair as he continues to bring them down the familiar route of their usual afternoon stroll.

* * *

Hank remembers the first time where Connor despaired over getting his first fully grown strand of white hair. It had been a few years after the revolution, and Connor had been approaching his forties. 

_I don’t look good with white hair, Hank,_ he despaired, hands buried in then still dark brown hair. _I’m going to look ridiculous, and old, and ridiculous, and—_

Hank had shushed him them by holding Connor’s face in his hands and leaning in to give him a sound kiss on the lips. Connor tried to resist at first, far more focused on his concerns about his appearance, but just like every other time it only takes a little bit of coaxing before he’s leaning into the kiss, eager to soak in the affection that Hank has learned to love lavishing onto him.

 _Lonely,_ he remembers the words written in the psychological profile of Connor Anderson that he had scanned through all the way back in the beginning—the night when he barged into Connor’s apartment to pick him up for their first case. _Workaholic. Bad at socializing. Obsesses over the smallest details._ So many words and more to say about his deficiencies but none to talk about the drive and passion that kept him going even on his darkest days. 

Connor had helped him to learn so many things about being human in those days. About the importance of a life, the weight that it holds, the fragility of it. Hank, in turn, only found himself being drawn to the fire that Connor blazes within himself, shining bright like the flare of a falling star as it descends onto Earth.

Hank caught that star in his hands before it could crash and burn itself away. He caught it and kept it with him, letting it shine brighter and better than it could ever have even when it had been in the night sky. 

But stars never shine forever. They’re always fated to burn away, blazing their trail and making their mark on an uncaring universe, however momentary it may be.

It’s what Hank sees now, as he gently trails his fingers across the pale, completely white hair that now fall across Connor’s face. He’s about due for another haircut, Hank thinks. The shorter hair will help to keep him cool as Detroit rolls into its hottest days of summer.

He’s content with simply lying here, to have Connor’s warmth at his side and feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest with the hand he’s placed over there. The sensation of it is far more comforting than any reading of Connor’s biometrics that flash in his HUD, and Hank has long since weaned himself off on relying on it. Most days now, he keeps his vision is clean of any pop ups or readings; Hank doesn’t want anything to obstruct his view when he looks at Connor.

They’ve been together long enough that Hank doesn’t need his sensors to let him know when Connor rouses from his rest. He simply knows now from the shift in his breathing and the twitch of his fingers that always happens naught point nine seconds before the muscles in his face start to move.

Hank hasn’t moved his hand away from Connor’s hair. “It’s almost dinnertime, Connor,” he mutters, voice pitched just low enough for him to hear. “Do you want to eat on the dining table, or in bed?”

There’s no response. In the past that silence would have annoyed him, but Hank has long since learned patience and how important it is with Connor. So he simply waits, continuing to stroke through his hair and relish the feel of those strands between his fingers. Hair once a deep dark brown now a brilliant white, and yet still as beautiful as always. Everything about Connor is beautiful, really, and to see him age and grow is like watching the flare of a star that burns especially bright.

It’s only after several minutes does Hank finally get his answer, muttered so quietly that he only picks it up due to his advanced receptors. “Bed.”

So it's one of those days, then. Hank hums an affirmative. “Give me fifteen minutes,” he says, stroking through Connor’s hair one more time before withdrawing his hand. Connor reaches out to grab his wrist before he can pull away entirely, once delicate fingers now gnarled with age curling into his own skin that has never aged a day.

Hank stills, looking at Connor to see what it intends to do. Connor brings his hand close to his face and presses his chapped lips onto the back of his hand, brown eyes expressing the gratitude that Connor has always found hard to express out loud. 

He curls his fingers into Connor’s to show that he knows. Connor sighs quietly and lets his hand go. “If I find celery in my salad I’m gonna send you over to Jericho.”

“They’re good for you, Connor.”

“Well, I’m over ninety and I say: fuck celery. They’re just gross water sticks.”

Hank rolls his eyes good naturedly and sighs. He reaches down to stroke Connor’s hair one more time. “Fine. No celery tonight, since you asked so nicely.”

Connor flashes a toothless grin at him. “My hero.”

* * *

Tenacity has always been one of Connor’s strongest traits. That much had been obvious during the revolution, with his unwillingness to give up the case even as Perkins tried to pry it off his scarred, bloodied knuckles. Connor was a fighter through and though—but more importantly, he was a _survivor_.

Hank sees it in the scattering of scars and scabs that still decorate his body even at his advanced age. Most of them have faded with the years, but some of them still remain visible even after all this time. All of those wounds, however, come not from his job but just from Connor’s fights to stay in this world.

Cancer, they called it. Twice, even, but each time Connor has fought and triumphed over the deadly illness. But those fights have taken their toll on him, and at his age all those fights have finally culminated together.

He remembers the first time Connor had collapsed onto the floor, his legs no longer able to hold up the weight and bulk that is the rest of his body. Hank remembers holding Connor close and staying quiet to the trembling that wracked through the human’s body as they sat through the autocab ride to the ER, sensing all that pain and agony that he could never be able to experience for himself.

Back then, during the revolution, Connor had expressed his distaste at that, on the fact that Hank wasn’t able to feel anything at all. _There’s no point looking like human if you can’t even act and feel like one,_ he had spat out the words, glaring at Hank. 

Now, instead, as he lies recovering in his ward with Hank anxiously hovering over him, he looks at Hank with soft brown eyes and says _I wish you weren’t so human so you wouldn’t hurt when you look at me._

 _I’d take the pain if it means I can love you,_ Hank had replied with those words, then. _You can’t have the good without the bad, right?_

Connor laughed at that. _You’re an idiot, alright._

_Wonder where I got it from._

It’s been many years now since that particular conversation, but Hank still remembers it. He remembers everything about Connor; zettabytes of every moment he has of Connor and _with_ Connor stored in the most important parts of his data banks. He plays it every night as he watches Connor sleep, holding his old, brittle body close and keeping him warm with his internal heat as the hours of Connor’s sleeping cycles pass by.

Next to the bed stands Connor’s wheelchair—the sixth one he’s gone through with now. Hank’s tried to get one that is durable enough to withstand Connor’s demanding needs to be _everywhere_ but it always inevitably gets wrecked one way or another. Explaining to the shops about it never gets any easier as well. But still it's always worth it for the delighted smile that appears on Connor’s wrinkled face when they do manage to do something ridiculous like wheeling all the way up to the top of a hill or through a forest path where no wheelchair should be able to get to.

They say that age makes humans more reclusive, tired, weary. That much still holds true, but there are still times where Connor lets the old fire drive him and makes him do all these ridiculous things. But even as foolish as they are they are also things that Hank can never deny him because they both know this will ever be their only chance to do any of them.

In his mind he recalls the toothless smile that Connor flashes him as they watch the setting sun just a few weeks prior, estatic on being able to catch the sunset at one of the best viewing spots even though that meant replacing the dentures that Connor dropped along the way. But a lack of teeth doesn’t stop the way Connor kisses back so passionately, his lips and tongue warmer than the rays of the setting sun shining behind them.

That’s what Connor is, now—the blazing star, the setting sun. Beautiful sights which are never meant to last even as they sear into your eyeballs and into your memories. 

Still, they are no less beautiful. Connor is no less beautiful, and Hank tells him as such when Connor stirs with the rising sun, looking at him with a sleepy expression.

“You don’t need to compliment me if you want some, y’know,” he mumbles, warm, familiar amusement suffusing through every word.

Hank reaches up and carefully brushes off the hair that’s fallen over Connor’s forehead. “You know I don’t need that.” He’s always loved sex in the context of making Connor feel good and nothing more. They’ve certainly had a wild time during Connor’s thirties and forties and especially at the early part of his fifties. He recalls when Connor worried in his sixties, on starting to become too old to keep going at it like they used to, but it had been such a ridiculous worry that Hank quickly dispelled that thought before it could take further root.

Now at his age Connor at least doesn’t worry about it any more. It’s funny how it took being old for him to stop caring about the opinions of others, but Hank supposes that being aware of how close death approaches your door helps with that. 

“Just because you don’t need it doesn’t mean you don’t _want_ it.” Connor leans up and presses a soft kiss to Hank’s jaw. “C’mon, let an old man have his wish.”

Hank grunts, only slightly amused. “Death by sex isn’t a glamorous way to go.”

“Sure as hell would be interesting, though.” Another kiss, this one closer to his lips. “Let’s see if you can do it.”

Hank sighs and gently rolls them so Connor is fully rested onto the mattress with Hank looming over him. They lock gazes like this, and it's strange how even after so many years it doesn’t feel any less intense as their first night together. Hank can almost picture that once youthful face looking up at him in defiance, a wordless challenge for him to back down. A gamble to see who was right and who was wrong. Connor would say later that it's a bet he’s never been happier to lose.

Their lovemaking is gentle but no less passionate than their very first time. Connor doesn’t exactly manage to get hard at all but he makes it clear enough how much he enjoys the closeness, and Hank groans into Connor’s lips as he spills into his hand. Hank wipes them both clean once they’re done and hefts Connor up into his arms, holding him bridal style.

Connor snorts and leans to rest his head against Hank’s chest. “Pretty sure you carried me like this when we got married.”

Hank hums in response. “You hated it back then.”

“Because you did it in fucking public.” A sigh. “But I guess it isn’t so bad now.”

“Only took you sixty years to admit that,” he mutters, but there’s a smile on his face. Sixty years—that’s a long time to be together, for humans and even for androids. And there are still days yet ahead to share together.

One day, Connor will die—that is an immutable fact. But until then Hank will be there, watching him and loving him for the rest of his days.

**Author's Note:**

> _we're connected and we won't part anymore  
> [let the starlight keep shining on us](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sibHkQ69Ki4)_


End file.
